


Dipped in Dreams

by praesaepe



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Rung please close the jar that is too many rust sticks and Ratchet is unimpressed, Rust sticks, So many rust sticks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22076044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/praesaepe/pseuds/praesaepe
Summary: A quiet night in for two old mechs in love.
Relationships: Ratchet/Rung
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	Dipped in Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> For [Eli!](https://lesbianprimus.tumblr.com/) Sweet fluff was wanted, sweet fluff was given, and our resident deity sure as hell deserves it.
> 
> Title is a play on lyrics from [The Candy Man by Sammy Davis Jr.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o5vFvt3fJpw) because that's just a Rung song to me.
> 
> As always, hit me up on [praesaepe](https://praesaepe.tumblr.com/)! I love to hear from you guys.

Rung idly nibbled on yet another rust stick as he reread the last paragraph of the essay he was grading. After a klik of consideration, he trapped it between his teeth to free up his servos so he could make one last mark and write in a few comments on the bottom. Misfire had done a surprisingly good job - though Rung still wasn’t sure why the Scavenger was taking a basic psychology course, and he wasn’t convinced he wanted to know. A swipe of his servo brought up the next essay. He started reading, brow furrowed in concentration.

There was a small hiss as the habsuite door slid open, but Rung paid it no mind, too focused on the essay. He absently popped the rest of the rust stick in his mouth, frowning when he realized what he’d done before reaching towards the open container of them sitting on his desk. He felt his servo hit something that was definitely  _ not _ the rim of the jar and looked up to see a red servo blocking the way. He blinked, turning his head to see Ratchet standing there, one optic ridge raised.

“How many have you had tonight?” he said. Rung smiled sheepishly at his conjunx.

“Probably too many,” he admitted, not lowering his servo. “I’m sure one more wouldn’t hurt, though.” He gave Ratchet a hopeful look, making him snort in amusement and gently pull Rung’s servo up to brush his lips over the back of it. In response, Rung cupped his conjunx’s cheek and pulled him down into a soft kiss. His free servo quietly fumbled for the jar, only to find Ratchet’s servo covering the top. He pulled away from the kiss with a chuckle.

“You think I haven’t caught on to your tricks by now?” Ratchet asked.

“It doesn’t hurt to try,” Rung replied.

“Of course not, dearspark.” He plucked one of the candies from the jar and pushed the end into Rung’s mouth. “I’m going to go wash up. I had a long shift - Brainstorm thought it would be a good idea to let Whirl test out one of his new guns, and it went about as well as you’d expect.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “One would think that Perceptor would be able to talk Brainstorm out of some of his worst ideas.” Rung ran his servo along Ratchet’s shoulder in a comforting gesture and pulled the rest of the rust stick from his mouth.

“I doubt he can stop Brainstorm every time,” he said, a soft smile on his face. “And you’re talking about the same mech that used to hang upside down from ships with a sniper rifle. Perceptor is just as fallible as the rest of us.”

“Yes, but  _ Whirl _ ,” Ratchet emphasized. Rung chuckled.

“Fair,” he said. He tapped the end of the rust stick on the table. “Go on and take a shower. I’ll try to finish grading this paper before you’re out, and maybe we can relax. I don’t particularly feel like going out tonight. Would you want to stay in and watch a vid?”

Ratchet smiled. “That sounds good to me,” he said. He pressed one last kiss on the top of Rung’s helm before turning and walking into their private washracks - a perk of being CMO. Well, former CMO, as Ratchet had long since retired from his position as head of the medbay and left it to younger mechs like First Aid. He was perfectly content only popping in there for the occasional shift, of course, but wanted to leave some of the pressure behind now that they were no longer at war or on some mystic quest. Rung heard the showerhead turn on with a hiss as he turned back to the datapad on his desk.

He’d only gotten through about half of the paper and had had to stop himself from grabbing another rust stick several times by the time Ratchet stepped out of the washracks, wiping the last of the solvent from his frame with a towel. Rung glanced at his conjunx and noted the slight frown tugging down the corners of his mouth as he tried to wipe off what was evidently a scrape rather than a particularly stubborn line of dirt.

“Whirl?” Rung inquired. Ratchet shook his head.

“Last planet I went topside on, I think. Thought the nanites would’ve fixed it up all the way, but it seems like I’m going to have to get this buffed out” he said. Rung frowned as well, but Ratchet’s annoyance cleared up as he threw the towel in a bin. He caught Rung’s expression. “I’m fine. Nothing to worry about. Are you finished grading?”

Rung glanced at the datapad. “Close. A few more kliks. And you’d better put the rust sticks back up on the shelf, because I keep getting distracted stopping myself from grabbing them,” he admitted. Ratchet snorted and took the jar to the cabinet where Rung kept all of his goodies. Rung watched as he placed it on one of the shelves and eyed the rest of the cabinet space. It was a bit more bare than he would’ve liked, but it was hard to find similar treats to the ones he was familiar with in this universe, and he wasn’t quite adept at making them on his own yet. Ratchet turned around and raised an optic ridge. He quickly turned back to his desk and continued scrolling through the essay.

Rung gave Krok full marks and a glowing comment, and was now fairly sure he’d figured out why Misfire was in this course, given how unique and personal Krok’s perspective had been. No doubt he’d done some studying on this topic before, especially given the fact he’d been the Scavengers’ medic. Rung turned the datapad off and set it on the desk, then swiveled his chair around to face Ratchet. He’d settled himself on the couch that had replaced the second berth and was obviously searching for a vid on the datapad in his servos. Rung stood and walked over to lean over the back of the couch and point at a title.

“I haven’t seen this one in a long time. It might be fun,” he said. Ratchet turned halfway to look at him.

“What kind of ‘long time’ are we talking about here? Is it the ‘My serial number is one’ kind of long time, or the ‘It’s been a few centuries’ kind?” Rung’s cooling fans clicked on with a low hum as he felt his face heat up.

“The latter, thank you very much,” he managed to eek out, giving Ratchet a cross look. Ratchet simply laughed.

“Come on, sit down,” he said. He patted the spot on the couch next to him.

“I have half a mind to go back to grading essays instead,” Rung said, even as he walked around the edge of the couch and settled himself next to Ratchet.

“Isn’t Primus supposed to be the forgiving type? Maybe I should pledge my undying fealty to Epistemus or Solomus instead,” Ratchet teased, placing his arm around Rung’s shoulders. Rung pretended to grumble reluctantly and press himself against Ratchet’s side. Ratchet cast the vid he’d pointed out onto the large screen.

“As if you’d pledge ‘undying fealty’ in a cosmic sense to anyone,” Rung said. Two members of an alien species he couldn’t remember the name of were conversing on screen as the opening sequence began.

“Does being sparkbonded to Primus count? I think it counts.”

“Maybe if you weren’t an atheist,” Rung said airily. Ratchet’s servo rubbed a soothing circle on his shoulder as they played out the same discussion they always seemed to, and Rung smiled at the comforting familiarity of it before a pang of something strong and self-deprecating hit him, weighing down on him, and before he could stop, he diverted from the script. “As it is, I just happened to have the luck to come first. It doesn’t make me  _ that _ important.” Ratchet didn’t quite  _ freeze _ , but there was a pause to his movements before he looked over at the mech curled into his side that was refusing to meet his optics.

“It’s not as if you would need to be some deity to make you important,” he said softly. “You’re one of the kindest, wisest mechs I’ve ever met, accomplished in your field, and, well, not to hard on the optics.” He said the last bit with a wry grin that had a small laugh bubbling up in Rung’s vocalizer again. He looked at Ratchet, optics gleaming, and thanked his lucky stars that he’d ended up bonded with someone who could read him as easily as he did and pick him up on those occasions he found himself stumbling.

“Of course,” he said. He leaned up and angled himself to press a small kiss to Ratchet’s lips, not making an attempt to deny the compliment like he wanted to, just accepting it for what it was. He felt Ratchet’s lips turn up in a smile under his mouth and pulled away, a soft smile of his own on his face. “You should probably restart the vid. I haven’t heard a word they’ve said.”

Ratchet laughed. “Of course.” He did so, and Rung snuggled in closer, head resting against his conjunx.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

“I love you, too,” Ratchet replied. Rung’s spark thrummed warmly in his chest, and they settled in to watch the vid.


End file.
